


You Make Me Live

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Camping, First Time, M/M, Roughhousing, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7515883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Come on,” Link cajoles, a whiny note in his voice that should infuriate Rhett but doesn’t. “Truth or dare, Rhett?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Fine. Truth.” There are risks to both, but he’d rather sound like an idiot than end up hurting himself because of whatever dare Link thinks up. Normally he’d be all for it, but he’s buzzed and unsteady, head spinning from more than just the beer, and their dares are dumb enough when they’re sober.</i>
</p>
<p>Rhett gets more than he bargained for on a summer camping trip with Link.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make Me Live

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MythicallySnappy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicallySnappy/gifts), [amanderjean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amanderjean/gifts).



> Written for the [Rhink Summer Ficathon](https://rhinksummerficathon2k16.tumblr.com/) prompt [You're My Best Friend](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wAsPu-FTBsw) by Queen. Dedicated to my beautiful salt sisters [Rachelle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicallySnappy) and [Amanda](http://archiveofourown.org/users/amanderjean), not only for creating this ficathon and letting me help out with it, but also for being awesome, talented, hilarious ladies whom I'm so grateful to have met. Thanks to them and to [Rachel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelheather) and [Heather](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bluthmodelholmes) for looking this bad boy over for me!

The river’s still ice-cold even though the temperature’s been hovering above ninety for the past three weeks, and Rhett’s pretty sure his feet are gonna fall off if he keeps them in much longer. They’ve got two Budweisers out of a six pack left, tied up in a fishing net and set in the shallows, the rushing water keeping them cool and making them—well, not palatable, but a lot better than the lukewarm pisswater they started out drinking.

Rhett’s dizzy off two beers, something he knows he’d get teased about if he were out here with anyone else. But it’s just the two of them on the riverbank, and Link is just as drunk if not drunker than he is. Link, who is leaning back on one hand, a long straight line from the jut of his hipbones over the waistband of his swim trunks to the curve of his stubbled jaw, as he tips his head back to drain the last sips of the can he’s holding. The way his throat works, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, has Rhett tingling down his spine, all the way to the tips of his fingers, and his feet may be blocks of ice at this point but the rest of him’s feelin’ awful warm all of a sudden.

“Truth or dare,” Link says, suddenly, making Rhett jump. He averts his eyes, not wanting to get caught staring.

“Can’t play truth or dare with two people, dude,” Rhett scoffs, plunging a hand into the water to haul up the net and grab the remaining cans. “You want?”

“Yeah,” Link nods, taking one can from him. He pops the tab and takes a swig, shuddering at the taste and wiping the foam off his upper lip.

Rhett forces himself to look away again, hot and cold washing over him in waves until he doesn’t know what he’s feeling.

“Come on,” Link cajoles, a whiny note in his voice that should infuriate Rhett but doesn’t. “Truth or dare, Rhett?”

“Fine. Truth.” There are risks to both, but he’d rather sound like an idiot than end up hurting himself because of whatever dare Link thinks up. Normally he’d be all for it, but he’s buzzed and unsteady, head spinning from more than just the beer, and their dares are dumb enough when they’re sober.

Link taps his fingers against the side of his can, chewing on his bottom lip before slanting a glance at Rhett, mischief in his eyes. Rhett’s stomach sinks.

“How far’d you end up going with Jamie before you dumped her?”

Rhett groans, and Link bursts into giggles.

“Really, man?” Shaking his head, listening to Link’s high-pitched laughter, he opens his own can of beer and gulps half of it down in one go, doing his best to ignore the taste. He figured they’d get there eventually, but he hadn’t figured on it being Link’s very first question. He considers lying, but gives up the notion almost immediately. If it were anyone else, he would. but with Link—

“I got my hands up her shirt a few times,” he says, feeling his cheeks heat up. Beside him, Link _cackles_ , gleeful like _he’s_ the one who got to feel the lace of Jamie’s bra underneath her soft wool sweater, cup the weight of her tits in his hands, rub his thumbs over the smooth skin of her chest and catch her pretty little gasps with his mouth.

Then, after a moment when it becomes clear Rhett doesn’t have anything else to say, Link’s laughter abruptly stops. “Wait, that’s—that’s it?”

There’s an expression on Link’s face Rhett can’t quite decipher. Almost—hopeful? It’s not mocking, though, whatever it is, so he tamps down the burst of anger that had flared up at Link’s question, and nods. “Yeah, I mean—we only went together a few months. Surprised I got that far, honestly.” He snorts, leaning back and looking at the sky, just beginning to darken with the oncoming twilight. “She musta really liked me. Til I dumped her, I mean.”

“I bet she did,” Link says, and his voice is low. Surprised at the sudden change in tone, Rhett looks over again at Link, breath catching in his throat when he sees the way Link is staring at him. His usually bright eyes are dark, and he looks _hungry_.

“What—”

“You ain’t never gone further than that?” Link interrupts, draining the remainder of his can and crushing it in his fist before throwing it in the general direction of their tent. “Not with—not with Amber, or—”

Rhett shakes his head slowly. “I was _thirteen_ when I dated Amber, man, we barely even kissed but once or twice. And don’t you think I woulda told you if I had?”

“Hm,” Link mutters. “Didn’t tell me about Jamie, though, did you?” That strange look is still on Link’s face, but now his brows are furrowed and there’s a tightness to his jaw that wasn’t there just a few moments ago. He looks _pissed_. 

Link’s mercurial on a good day, mood changing on a dime, but Rhett doesn’t understand how he can run a gamut of emotions from giggling and teasing to almost predatory to pissed off within the space of five minutes. He looks at the can in his hand, then back at Link, who’s still glaring like Rhett’s done him some personal wrong. Maybe the beer was a mistake.

“Sorry I didn’t share all the gory details of my relationship with you, Link,” he bites out, feeling more than a little pissed off himself. “What’d you want, a freakin’ invitation into her bedroom? Let you sit there and watch while I felt her up?” It’s a flippant remark but heat rushes through him at the thought. The scenario plays out in his mind, him and Jamie on the bed, her long legs wrapped around his waist, pulling her shirt off as Link watches from the desk chair in the corner.

Link’s sharp intake of breath startles him, and the scene in Rhett’s head shifts, Jamie’s purple room transforming into a more familiar blue and white one, striped curtains on the windows and a dark grey bedspread, and now the legs wrapped around his waist aren’t Jamie’s but Link’s, and—

“You know how many times I jerked off to the thought of you two?” Link asks, pulling Rhett out of his fantasy. “Her suckin’ you off, her mouth around your dick, maybe gaggin’ on it a little? Surprised my left arm isn’t twice the size of my right.”

Rhett gapes, fumbling for words. He’s so dizzy and he’s so confused, and Link’s tan skin is gleaming in the setting sun, gold and pink by turns, and all Rhett wants to do is get his mouth on him. “But you coulda—Tabitha—”

Link sighs. “I wasn’t into Tabitha, man, you knew it and she knew it. Everybody knew it. I just went with her ‘cause you were goin’ with Jamie and I didn’t wanna be left out.”

“If you had a thing for Jamie, why didn’t you say somethin’? I woulda—”

“Bo, you’re dumb as shit sometimes,” Link says, and Rhett doesn’t even have a chance to react before Link’s lips are on his, and oh, _oh_ , now Rhett gets it.

Link’s mouth is sour with beer but it’s still the best thing Rhett’s ever tasted. Jamie was a great girl and touching her felt real nice, but he’s been kissing Link for approximately ten seconds now and he thinks he just might die it’s so good.

“Link, what— _ohh_ , holy shit, what are we—” 

“Come on Rhett,” Link whispers, fingers gripping his shoulders like a vice, “show me how you kissed her. Show me how you touched her while I was up in my room alone, thinkin’ about you and jerkin’ off.”

“ _Link_ ,” Rhett groans, pulling him onto his lap, the press of Link’s ass against Rhett’s hard dick nearly too much to handle. He wraps his arms around Link’s waist, loving the feeling of his skin, feverishly warm and wonderfully familiar, skin he’s touched a million times, but never, _never_ like this. “Why didn’t you say anything, we coulda been—”

“Always so girl crazy, what was I supposed to think?” Link rasps, clutching Rhett tighter and burying his head in Rhett’s neck, pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin there, making Rhett shiver. He’s not wrong; Rhett hasn’t shut up about girls, both specific and general, since they were six and ‘girls’ meant ‘curly pigtails and frilly socks’. But the feeling of Link, broad and flat and hard against him—

“Girls are stupid,” Rhett mumbles into Link’s hair, and Link giggles so hard his whole body shakes. It breaks the mood a little but Rhett doesn’t mind. He chuckles too, pulling Link closer, holding him tighter. He needs the weight of Link, like an anchor, because feels like he’s floating right now. Link’s laughter sounds like music, and his body feels like home.

“Coulda told you that,” Link says when the laughter dies down, when that heavy, warm tension returns between them. The feeling makes Rhett think of the electric fence around the cow pasture, the low thrumming of energy that’s equal parts dangerous and irresistible. There are so many reasons they shouldn’t be doing this—so much could go wrong.

Rhett’s never been able to resist a challenge.

Link presses another kiss to Rhett’s neck, then pulls back, lips red, a flush high on his cheeks. “You wanna—” he gestures to the tent, eyes dark, and the way he squirms in Rhett’s lap leaves no question as to what he means. 

Overwhelmed with excitement and still more than a little breathless, Rhett can only nod in response. Link clambers off his lap, all knees and elbows, narrowly avoiding kneeing Rhett in the groin. He turns to head back to the campsite, but when Rhett tries to follow, he realizes that either his feet are actually, literally frozen—or that, at least, they’ve fallen asleep.

“Shit,” he says, quietly, and then, when Link doesn’t seem to hear him, louder, “I can’t—Link, I can’t—”

The fear in Link’s eyes, the way his face falls as he turns slowly back to look at Rhett, speaks multitudes. Immediately, Rhett realizes what Link must be thinking, but Link responds before he can set things straight.

“Oh.” Link bites his lip. “Okay.” He throws back his shoulders and nods shortly. Rhett feels his heart sink.

“No,” Rhett says frantically, regretting his choice of words, “it’s not that—”

“I get it. I shouldn’t—we shouldn’t have—just never mind—”

“No, listen, it’s not—”

“It’s fine, Rhett, just… let’s forget this ever happened, okay? I’m sorry.” He turns towards the tent again, shoulders slumped, defeat written in every line of his body.

“Link!” Rhett yells, scrambling up, frozen feet sliding in the slippery mud of the riverbank, sending him to his knees. He’s still fuzzy, body not working like it should, and he barely gets his hands out in time, a few milliseconds separating him from a faceful of mud. “Damn it, Link, come back here!”

Link stops, spine going rigid. Concern washes over his face when he turns back to Rhett.

“You idiot, I was trying to tell you _I can’t feel my feet_ because they’re frozen.” Rhett looks up at Link, glaring a little because he’s half-covered in mud, but he can’t stay annoyed, Link’s eyes brightening even as his face softens.

“You mean you weren’t—”

“Help me up and I’ll show you,” Rhett answers, holding out a muddy palm in supplication. Link wrinkles his nose, but grasps his hand anyway, and there’s a split second where he realizes what Rhett’s about to do, but there’s no way to stop it. Rhett tugs, and Link’s feet go out from underneath him, and he lands with a _splat_ in the mud.

He looks so indignant, brow scrunched up and mouth turned down in an exaggerated frown, and Rhett can’t help the belly laugh he lets out. Link glares at him, opening his mouth to holler, but Rhett seals their lips together in a kiss before he can.

“I’m gonna freakin’ kill you, man,” Link mutters against Rhett’s lips, but he doesn’t sound all that mad. Rhett slips his tongue into Link’s mouth, tasting him again, warm and wet and so satisfying. Link lets out a happy little hum, trailing a hand up the side of Rhett’s body, soft and slow, and Rhett sighs contentedly—

a sigh that turns into a yelp when he feels something cold and wet dripping down from the back of his head. Reaching up, Rhett feels slick mud sliding through his fingers, and he looks down to find a wicked grin stretching Link’s face wide.

“Ohhh, you’re dead, buddyroll. Now I gotta get in the river and wash this off, it’s dark and I’m still half-drunk, it’s all your fault if I drown.” Rhett glares but he can tell it’s not having any effect, because Link just keeps grinning up at him, and he can feel his own lips twitching in response. Trying to tamp it down, he continues, “whatcha gonna tell my folks when I end up dead, huh? ‘Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. McLaughlin, I got your son real drunk and’—”

“Real drunk!” Link snorts. “You had three beers, hell, it ain’t my fault you’re a lightweight—”

“‘I got your son real drunk’,” Rhett continues doggedly, “‘then I kissed ‘im, then I threw mud on him and he drowned,’ yeah, that’d go over real well.”

“Eh, they got Cole, they’d be alright.” Surging up, Link presses a kiss to Rhett’s nose, feather-light and so stupidly sweet it makes Rhett’s entire body tingle. “Come on, stupid, I’ll get in with you. Make sure nothin’ happens.”

“Yeah, like you could save me if I was drownin’,” Rhett grumbles, but he pushes himself up anyway and offers a hand to Link. “Scrawny little shit.”

“I could take you,” Link counters. Rhett raises an eyebrow, and he can see on Link’s face the moment he realizes the double meaning in what he’s said. “I—” he starts, faltering, then grins, more than a little wicked, sharp teeth gleaming. Rhett feels a rush of heat go through him. “I could take you,” he finishes, lower in tone. He tilts his head, a silent question, and Rhett nods fervently. It’s nothing he’s ever even considered before but he trusts Link, trusts him with his life, with his heart—trusting him with his body seems less like a terrifying leap into the unknown and more like the next logical step. 

Rhett coughs, suddenly overcome with need and gratitude and love for the idiot next to him, and casts around for a change of subject. “Oughta get in anyway, you’re a mess. Not gonna let you in the tent like that.”

“I’m always a mess,” Link agrees cheerfully. Rhett snorts, lacing their fingers together, marveling at how much bigger Link’s fingers feel between his than all the girls he’s held hands with. Maybe it should be awkward, but it isn’t—it’s like puzzle pieces finally slotting into place. Everything about this—it feels _right_ , like he’s finally found something he hadn’t realized he was missing.

“You know what, Link?” he asks, dipping a toe that’s just now begun to regain feeling into the icy water. The shock of the cold grounds him a little, bringing everything back into sharper focus. Turning to look at Link, he smiles. “You’re my best friend.”

Link smiles back, soft and warm in the light of the rising moon. “You’re mine, man.”

“You know what else?” Rhett asks, squeezing Link’s hand. At Link’s raised eyebrow, he tugs his hand away.

“This.”

The only thing more satisfying than the sound of Link’s flailing body hitting the water, the splash of his windmilling arms as he comes up for air spitting like an angry cat, is the feel of him, hard and hot, when Rhett jumps in after and tugs him close, quieting his yowls with soothing, half-apologetic kisses to Link’s face, his throat, the dips in his collarbones, until Link is clinging to him like a lifeline, long legs wrapped around Rhett’s waist, big hands clutching at Rhett’s shoulders, his back, trailing up his neck to scrub through the short scruff of Rhett’s hair.

As they kiss and touch, exploring each other under the silvery moon, Rhett realizes that although the beer buzz has worn off, he’s drunker now than he was an hour ago, the salt of Link’s skin under the cold wash of the river water more intoxicating than anything he’s found in a bottle or can.

When they finally scramble back onto shore, dripping wet and breathing heavy, they don’t bother lighting the fire. Heaping their soaked swim trunks in a pile near the rest of their gear, they zip up the tent and generate their own heat for the night.


End file.
